Business As Usual
by ClassyClassic16
Summary: Jane and Frankie Rizzoli are cops by day, killers by night. They go after rapists and murderers who have escaped the law, or who have enough money to go above it. They're extremely good at what they do, but what will happen when they encounter an obstacle on one of their missions that Jane has an instant liking for? Rizzles Romance.


I've been playing around with this idea for a while. I'll continue for sure, but I can't say when the next installment will be out. I don't own anything about Rizzoli and Isles, i just like to write about them. Feel free to read and review, they're always much appreciated.

Enjoy :)

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The gleaming mansion sits atop the hill, jutting out from the blackness of the night. It's bricks lie in perfect alignment with each other, the shingled black roof covering them all protectively. Through sparkling glass window panes, drivers can see the party that has begun inside, the lights from the interior shining out into the night, like a beacon. Sleek silver and black cars pull up to the gate, and the wrought iron pokes swing open, allowing the guest entrance to the party. The driveway, paved with cobblestones, lies choked with cars, expensive luxury vehicles with custom paint jobs and rims, hood ornaments shine as the lights from the windows shine onto them.

Pulling up the long tilted driveway, the black Porsche crunches the pebbles, its riders silently viewing the glowing mansion in all its full glory. Party guest, although clothed in sophisticated attire, with evening gowns and suits, make their presence known as they run across the driveway to get to the main doors.

"Do you see him?" Jane Rizzoli speaks to her brother cocking the guns in the passenger seats under the dashboard. With specially crafted contacts, she zooms in, scanning the throes of people for the one face they needed to find. Getting closer to the main doors, she scans the group standing by the solid oak panels. Some hold cigarettes lazily between their fingers, others clinging to their martini glasses like a child to their blanket. Truth be told, Jane had no idea why this party was happening, but he was here, and he needed to be dealt with, so they had to put up with a different atmosphere. The past few times that they had gone to parties like this, it was more of a challenge to get to their target, but not impossible. No kill was impossible for them, and difficult ones, such as this one at the party, were simply tests of their skills.

"No clue, you got the high tech lenses," Frankie slings the pistol into a hidden holster in his suit. The silk shirt rustles softly as he buttons the jacket again, and he smooths the black fabric, successfully hiding the outline of the gun. Frankie tightens his tie, his fingers running over the soft blue cloth, and he brushes his fingers over the blonde wig.

"He's probably in the house; it is his party, why would he be socializing with the ones who decide to hang outside." Jane grimaces, bringing the car to a slow stop in front of the main path.

"Be careful with the accent. We're supposed to be from upstate New York, not Boston slums." Frankie hisses, swinging open the passenger door, almost smashing it into a potting plant.

Stepping out of the car, Jane allows the onlookers to gaze at her, and she smirks at the mild jealousy on the female faces. She sweeps over the steps, the blue dress falling over her like a waterfall, fitting her in all the right places. She drops the keys in the hands of a bellboy, and smiles brightly at him before Frankie joins her. The heels she walks in are digging into her ankles, the straps tied a bit too tight. No matter, a little pain wasn't going to stop them tonight.

Jane brushes her fingers over the blonde wig. She had spent the past hour styling it and positioning it so it would look natural, as natural as thin, dyed blonde hair could look. At least this hair was authentic to that of Susan's. One difference from the real thing was that her wig was higher quality, not brittle. Jane smiled at the real Susan and Mike tied up in the kitchen of their own mansion, just a temporary arrangement of course. She and Frankie had simply intruded on a dinner between the two and stolen their identity purely for this party. Disguises must be authentic, they couldn't simply pull a person out of thin air. With a little... persuasion... Jane and Frankie had gotten the couple to tell them everything about themselves.

Frankie offers out his arm, to which Jane gracefully accepts. "The way they're looking at you is hilarious." He mutters into her ear, the prosthetic 2 o'clock shadow scratching up against her skin. The fake skin feels almost lifelike, only trained assassins like themselves would know the difference.

Waltzing through the front door, Jane has to remember to stay in character. The large front hall has a variety of people lining the walls and covering the carpet, couples with drinks, marble statues in the corners with fake art critics fawning over them. The men hold their glasses with a certain air, the one that comes from a slight buzz given by scotch or whiskey; the women hold more feminine wine glasses, with the olives sticking out of the glasses, laughing about something.

Jane brushes her fingers softly against her chin, making sure the prosthetic is still there and still flawless. If you didn't have perfection when it came to disguises, there stands no rationale point in going. Jane had plenty of practice, especially with the earlier missions where one little flaw would throw off the whole sting.

"Susan!" Jane turns her head in search of the voice belonging to him and only him; the voice that drips with attitude, and self confidence. Garrett Fairfield strolls through the throngs of people and smiles at her with his large horse-teeth. Veneers, they had to be; no human being could get teeth so big and so white.

"Garrett, lovely to see you again," Jane smiles warmly, letting go of Frankie to kiss his cheeks and shake his hand. Frankie puts one arm around her waist protectively as her pseudo-husband, yet Garrett doesn't seem the least bit intimidated.

"Garrett Fairfield, pleasure to meet you again." Frankie sticks out his hand with an expressionless look on his face. Garrett's smile turns fake as he looks at Frankie and the two men shake hands. Jane refrains from smiling as she feels the gun in his pocket, so happy to see the dead man walking.

Before Garrett has a chance to respond to Frankie's small talk, a smaller woman appears beside him, in a red dress with black accenting along the neckline. Her hair appears the colour of darkened honey, and her eyes shine with something that Jane can't quite make out. Happiness, perhaps, or sadness. She has to be one of the prettiest women that Jane has ever seen, and why she was with this creep was a mystery.

"Garrett honey, Adam wants to speak with you," She says, her voice wavering as she lacks the self-confidence that her boyfriend clearly makes up for. She plays with a bracelet around her wrist and waits for a response from the man.

"Alright Maura, give me a minute. Adam can wait, Susan just got here." Garrett turns to Jane and smiles brightly. His hair sits plastered on his head, slicked back in an absurd hairstyle with an intolerable amount of gel and his black suit makes his figure look boxy and unappealing. "So how have you been Susan?"

Jane smiles stiffly, remembering that this was business mostly, not personal. Just because this chauvinistic male bastard acts like the biggest jerk in the world, Jane has no right to bring up how he treats his girlfriend like crap. Unless she heavily interfered the mission, and Jane silently hoped she wouldn't. She couldn't picture herself killing such a beauty.

"I've been better," Jane nods, watching as Maura sighs and disappears in the crowd. Frankie rubs his nose, and Jane understands; he needs a drink. Frankie taps his watch and follows Maura's example, vanishing into the vast majority of people in search of the tap.

"What's wrong?" Garrett looks at her intently, and Jane chokes back some stomach bile. The slime bag clearly had a fling with the previous Susan, and Jane begins to mentally prepare herself. She has to kiss this man if she wants everything to go perfectly, and with that thought, she chokes back more bile.

"I've had a headache ever since we got back from Tibet. It's so quiet there in the mountains, very peaceful." Jane feels a chill run up her spine as Garrett takes her hand with both of his and kisses it gently.

"I'm so sorry to hear that. How about I show you to one of the private rooms, you can rest for a while. Clear your head." Garret flashes another smile, clearly meaning more than a little nap.

Jane nods, "That would be lovely Garrett. Thank you" She pulls her hand gently from his grip, and subtly checks to make sure the fake skin hasn't broken. The small needles hiding on top of her fingernails have to be kept at perfect temperature and Garrett's display of fake chivalry certainly doesn't help.

Slowly making their way up the winding staircase, Jane grabs the banister, slightly surprised to see couples upstairs as well, ones she assumes are cheating. Garrett follows closely behind her, and Jane curses under her breath, hoping that she won't trip in these heels and the dress. The last thing she wants or needs for that matter, is for Garrett to catch her if she falls.

The upstairs has a dimly lit glow to it, a few wall lamps alight to reveal the faces of those who are acting like lovesick teenagers. The hardwood floors creak under the weight of the bodies enjoying themselves on top of it, and the oak doors look freshly varnished. Garrett goes ahead of her, and leads her into the first room on the left. Jane looks around, unsurprised to see the bed beside the window and a view of the driveway, cars still pulling in.

"So where were we Thursday, in the garden I believe?" Garrett closes the door and pushes Jane up against the wall beside it, his face so close to hers that she can see every little flaw that he has certainly tried so hard to cover up. Jane's stomach contorts as she smells the whiskey on his breath and she smiles seductively, remembering to stay in character.

"Right… Here…" Jane kisses him playfully, ignoring the bile that makes unsurprised visits with each touch of his lips. She feels his hardened member brush up against her leg, and she succeeds in not gagging. Allowing his tongue to enter her mouth, Jane runs her hands around his hand and over his hard, gelled hair.

Slowly unsheathing the small needle from her snaked bracelet, Jane smiles as she bites on Garrett's lip. She can feel him getting more excited with each kiss, and she smiles vindictively as he tries to act sexy.

"Are you excited yet?" Garrett whispers and gasps, his voice raspy as Jane shoves the needle into his back and waits for the toxin to take effect.

"Oh, I'm very excited Garrett." Jane slides out from under his extended arm, and watches as fear takes over his face when he realizes he can't move. Her voice remains low, still dripping in sex appeal as she watches with pleasure while his body stiffens. Jane removes the bracelet from his back, pressing the snake's eyes to make the silver syringe that is its tongue slide back in. "You see, that toxin that I just injected you with is from the Caribbean blowfish."

Jane runs a finger over Garrett's jaw line and twists his head, him breathing rapidly with pain. "Do you know what it does? That's easy, it paralyzes you. So you can't move, and I can do whatever I want." Jane grabs the center of her palm and rips off the fake skin glove covering the entire hand, revealing the device filling with potassium chloride. The two vials in the center of her palm lead to needles on the tips of her nails.

"Did I mention that you can feel every bit of pain?" Jane slaps him on the arm, hard, and he winces, moaning in protest. "Oops, I guess I forgot."

Jane presses the button on her watch and whispers into it. "Come upstairs, first door on the left." She turns around to Garrett and effortlessly tosses him onto the bed, his arm still extended. "And this little device here, well, it's potassium chloride. You know, the painful part of a lethal injection. Very quick killer. But we aren't going to kill you quickly."

Hearing a systematic pounding on the door, Jane opens it and Frankie enters, a smirk on his fake blonde face. "Well well well, look what we have here. A rapist is it? Lovely, I love the rapists. Always very convoluted kills."

Frankie pulls the pistol out from his jacket pocket and doesn't hesitate to shoot Garrett quickly in both legs. The gun is loaded with silencers, and the only noises in the room are Garrett's muffled cries of protest. Of course, no one outside can hear him, the walls are thick, as is the solid oak door. He lets out a pained scream, and Jane looks at Frankie the two nodding simultaneously.

"Where are my manners, I forgot to gag you," Jane rips a piece of fabric off the pant leg of Garrett's suit and gags him with it tightly. "That should keep you quiet."

Frankie pulls out a small knife from its shaft tied around his leg, and he smiles. "We actually have to make it back for sunrise, we promised our Ma that we'd have this job done before breakfast. So sorry to make it so fast."

In one quick swipe, Frankie shoves the knife between Garrett's legs, his muffled screams of pain music to Jane's ears. "Oh but that doesn't mean that this can't be fun for us." Jane takes the knife sticking in between Garrett's legs and twists it around, bunching the fabric around the blade and making the muffled screams even louder.

"Isn't that how your victims screamed, with pain and defiance? How they wanted their ordeal to end? You didn't give a shit, did you? You just wanted to please yourself." Jane gently presses the device in her palm, and Garrett's eyes turn to saucers as the needles unfurl to almost 5 inches. "Isn't it amazing at what technology can do for you?"

"Garrett, I've had enough of you with that sl…" Jane and Frankie turn to see the door swing open and Maura standing stunned and shocked in the doorway. Waves of panic crash over her face quickly, but it seems that she's lost all control over her lower half. Perhaps the scene is too terrifying, and Jane curses under her breath that such skilled assassins have allowed themselves a witness. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Jane assumes that they would treat Maura as any other witness, so she turns back to Garrett, smiling at him as seductively as she can.

"Frankie, get her," Jane commands, running the needle over Garrett's cheek, smiling at the thin lines of red that appear. Frankie has one arm around Maura's neck and one hand covering her neck as she tries desperately to pry his hand off. Her muffled screams actually make Jane feel bad for her, but she certainly doesn't show it.

"Looks like you're done for Garrett." Jane stabs the center of his chest and squeezes the compartment hard, the poison rushing through the needles into his heart. "Dead man walking."

Jane stands up again, and moves beside Frankie, watching Garrett's body convulse in panic before it goes finally silent, and the only sound is Maura's muffled screams. Her small body writhes in Frankie's arms, trying to get him off of her.

"Hey," Jane looks at Maura, drawing the needles across her cheek as well. Maura goes deadly silent, her chest still rising and falling rapidly as she hyperventilates, and Jane can see each individual bead of sweat coming down her brow. "If you agree to be quiet, I'll get him to let go of you, got it?" Jane presses the needles a little harder against Maura's skin and she sees the smaller woman wince in pain as the thin red lines appear and she nods furiously.

"You want me to find something to tie her up with?" Frankie still has a stronghold on Maura, who has gone from complete panic to total silence, although the panic no doubt still runs through her. The fair woman had turned pale white and looked as though she would faint at any given moment.

"Nah, I got it," Jane picks up the sheets off the bed and shreds them quickly and efficiently, Maura uttering a sort of terrified squeak as she watches Garret's bloody body fall effortlessly off the bed.

As Jane approached Maura with the satin sheet shreds in her hand, she watches Maura's body go rigid to the touch. Grabbing one hand, Jane pins it to Maura's back while Frankie keeps his arm and hand around her neck and mouth. Jane harshly takes Maura's other wrist and pins the two appendages together, subtly observing the softness of the skin, and how perfect her hands appeared.

Shaking her head to clear the thoughts, Jane nodded to Frankie, and with that he released his grip on Maura, his hand taking her wrists, holding them tightly. Her legs still shake, and for a moment, Jane stands unsure on whether or not Maura can support herself.

"What do you want from me? Please I won't tell anyone what I saw, I won't, I swear." Maura rattles off in a harsh whisper, her voice clearly raspy with fear. Jane smirks at her fear, something about it was endearing, somehow enjoyable for the taller woman.

"Well, just because you're here means you know what happened, and we really can't afford to be caught a second time. The first was bad enough and we barely got out of that courtroom innocent. You'll be coming with us for sure." Jane runs one of the syringes over Maura's jaw line, smiling at the dear in the headlights look that Maura has plastered all over her face. A sole red line becomes etched on the left of her pale face, matching the multiple ones on the other side.

"Please, I won't say anything, please spare me." Maura's skin looses all coloring, now a milky white in comparison to the vibrant, fresh-faced look she had on downstairs. She trembles badly feeling the weight of Frankie against her back.

"Who said anything about killing?" Jane presses the vials and their container in her hands again, and the three watch as the needles slide back in. Taking off the device, Jane opens the gold clutch she was carrying and tosses it in, also removing a pair of pliers. "And please, shut up. We need to be home by at least seven and get you to the car without anyone noticing and I need to review a few cases in the car. I need to concentrate, which won't be easy with you talking." Jane smacks the pliers flat on the palm of her hand "But of course, we're very good with dealing blunt force trauma. It's now up to you; co-operate, and we won't kill you, very simple."

"Understood," Maura whispers, letting out a small whimper as Frankie's knee collides with her spine. Landing hard on her knees, and falling hard on the varnished floor, Maura doesn't move as she hears whispering between the two, and an eventual slam of the door.

"What do we do with her?" Frankie hisses in Jane's ear, the pistol still in one hand, half cocked. Jane shakes her head slowly, now tired of the rest of the fake attire. Once the first of the fake skin is removed, it's usually quick to get the rest off, except this little roadblock has delayed their exit. "Should we kill her?"

"No, Ma always tells us not the kill people who didn't do anything wrong, and she had to put up with Garrett. I think she deserves a bit of a chance to live." Jane looks at Maura, now lying motionless on the floor, breathing fast still. "And if she won't shut up, just pull out one of her teeth. That usually works." Jane scratches at the crown of her head, wishing to pull off the wig. Both know that they can't abandon their disguises until they reach the checkpoint, but it doesn't make them any less irritating.

"That's true. People tend to get the message then." Frankie slides the pistol back in his suit jacket and neatly buttons up his suit jacket again. With one hand, he slicks back the blonde hair and adjusts a few air pockets that formed under the prosthetic skin. "I'll get the car; do you know where we're meeting the van?"

"Yeah, remember coming up here, how we passed that gas station near the border." Jane pulls off the string of pearls around her neck and starts to crack them open, revealing a few tiny robotic bugs. "We have to go back there and get the van. And if we're not there for breakfast, Ma will kill us. This is the 5th time we've blown her off, and she knows how to do murder effortlessly."

"Right, I'll go get the car. How many bugs are you gonna plant around here?" Frankie picks up a few of the little cameras and shoves them into his pocket, careful not to dirty any one of them. The expensive gadgets were almost 5000 dollars a piece, only the best for the Rizzoli killing machine.

"Probably 2 or 3, and one right on the asshole's forehead. That always makes for an interesting time when the cops get shock all over their faces." Jane laughs slightly and Frankie smiles.

"That's true. I'll call you when I'm under the window." Frankie opens the door into the dark hall and slams it shut. Jane assumes that outside he has to fix his tie again, a lucky charm. She shakes her head slightly and attaches the small bug onto Garrett's forehead, watching the blood pool around the device as she hammers it in with the pliers.

"What do you do with the witnesses?" Maura whispers as Jane stands up, brushing off her hands from installing the other bugs. The floor under her cheek is freezing, despite the warm summer temperature outside. Jane smirks at her, and suppresses a chuckle, causing Maura to bottle up more panic.

"Well, we usually don't have too many witnesses. After a while, you get pretty good at your job." Jane leans down and pulls Maura up by the wrists, unsure of what to do with her. "The last time we had a witness, he tried running away, and needless to say, he didn't get far."

"So how long do you expect me to live?" The smaller woman stands with perfect posture in the centre of the room, silent, frightened, her hair strewn about with a few strands covering her face. The immaculate dress now hangs wrinkled on her body, and Jane can see the blood around her ankles from the shoes straps digging in so hard.

"How long are you willing to cooperate? That's really what it's all about." Jane traces the side of Maura's face with one hand, feeling the smoothness of the skin underneath her fingertips. A grin comes onto her face as Maura lowers her eyes, and Jane swears to herself that this really is the most beautiful woman she's ever seen. Compliance from Maura could really get the taller woman everything in this situation "But I really hope I don't have to kill you."

Hearing static coming from her watch, Jane removes her hand from the warm skin and presses the button, waiting for Frankie's voice. Looking at Maura, she sees the honey-haired woman let out a small sigh, but Jane ignores it for the time being.

"I'm right outside the window, I can see the room's ceiling from here. Are you gonna leave a remain or not?" Frankie's voice pours through the watch's backing crystal clear, and Jane feels the weight of the pliers in her other hand.

"I don't know. Do you want me too?" Jane runs fingers through her previously immaculate hair, and tries to remember the last time they had a witness. Pulling out their teeth had been fun, and it didn't get them caught, but hurting Maura, was that an option for her?

"Why not, it makes the cops go into a frenzy for a few days." Frankie chuckles. "And when they don't find the body they go nuts. Remember that case a few years ago and she randomly turned up in a café missing her tongue."

"Yes, god that was disgusting though. I don't know how Ma pulled out that woman's tongue. But she chose freedom, and I would say we're honorable people." Jane turns to see Maura, wide-eyed, looking at her with fear and terror. "Alright, let me do that and I'll be down soon."

Backing Maura against the wall, Jane feels a hint of remorse in the pit of her stomach for what she's about to do, but soon shoves those thoughts out of her head. Right now, she still has to remind herself that this is business. Once they get back home, she can feel regret for what she has done. "Open your mouth." Jane commands, her voice somehow soft. Maura looks at her fearfully, her lips slightly parted, but not enough for the pliers. "Maura, open your mouth or I'll find another body part of yours to leave behind."

Reluctantly, Maura opens her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks that leave black trails of mascara behind. She feels the sting as they meet with the cuts covering her jaw line and cheeks. She never had imagined that her tongue would ever be pulled out, that part of the conversation she had managed to hear, and now the reality of that happening overwhelms her.

"I'm not gonna lie, this is gonna hurt." Jane locks the pliers onto Maura's right canine tooth, making sure there's no chance that the tool will lose its grip and she pulls. She hears Maura's whimpers of pain, and she assumes that the smaller woman must have a high pain tolerance not the scream. Jane feels the spray of blood hit the front of her dress and feels the resistance of the tooth break as the pliers rip it from Maura's mouth. Dropping the bloody canine tooth onto the bedsheets, and then taking hold of Maura's wrists, Jane guides her to the window and opens it.

Spots swim in front of Maura's eyes because of the pain and her head feels heavy due to the sudden rapid blood loss. She can feel initial spray of blood as the tooth gets pulled and the steady stream of crimson liquid pour out of her mouth and down her chin, staining her hair and dress. She leans against the wall for support, her head still spinning, and she watches as Jane drops the canine onto the bed sheets. She can feel Jane's hands on hers as the taller blonde leads her to the window and unlatches the glass, swinging it open.

"We're not going to jump, are we?" Maura speaks clearly, spraying blood onto the floor and down her dress. Jane rips the bottom of her blue one, and soaks up the blood on the floor, staining all the blue into a dark red and tossing the fabric swatch onto the floor, another warning.

"You've never jumped out a window before have you? A long dress with only give you broken bones," Jane looks out onto the sprawling lawn, pleased to see that the lawn has very little shrubbery, the majority of it a extended green.

"Wh...what?" Maura stutters, and feels weightless as Jane pushes her over the ledge of the window. She can feel one of Jane's arms around her; the other she assumes scales the side of the building. She hears the scraping of Jane's heels against the brick wall, and the blood now staining Jane's shoulder and hair. Jane feels the heels wear down, and lets go of he wall as she feels her fingertips begin to tingle. The last thing they need is for traces of her blood to be mixed with the other two samples.

Pulling a mini flashlight out from her clutch, Jane runs the faint yellow light up the cream colored bricks. Pleased to see no trails of red liquid or tattered skin ruminants, Jane clicks the light off and leads Maura to the car. True, the hand that had scaled the building still had fake skin on, but it was a thin layer at best, and she couldn't afford her DNA to get mixed in.

"See, that wasn't hard. It gets easier every time really." Jane can see Frankie flashing his headlights in her direction at the end of the lawn, and she thrusts Maura in the direction of the car.

"I suppose not, I'm still living. That's a good thing right?" Maura looks up at Jane walking beside her, and she can see a flap of skin near her ear beginning to peel away. Obviously the look that the tall blonde has is a disguise; killers with operations this airtight don't go in with their everyday appearance.

"I guess it depends on how crappy you're life is." Jane opens the door, shoves back the chair and tosses Maura onto the backseat. Pulling the seat up again, Jane climbs in and slams the door; glad to be rid of another one of Earth's scum, and another mission to go off without a hitch. Well, without too large a hitch, one witness usually never poses trouble, and few that they did have often choose inability to speak over loss of freedom after the first few weeks. She pulls off the fake skin on her other hand and cracks her knuckles, pleased to have the latex off. It still remains a necessity for the two to have fake skin covering their hands; it give fake fingerprints, usually taken from the victims of the people they set out to kill.

Maura closes her eyes on the comfortable leather seats, hearing dialogue between the two in the front, yet too tired and pained to pay attention. True, she doesn't have any family that would worry about her, and she doesn't have close enough friends to be worried if she went missing, so she has no one to worry about herself. But the reality of having no one to care for her sinks into Maura's head with viciousness, the reality of her situation hitting her like a ton of bricks. Garrett's family certainly didn't care for her, her parents never really bothered to check what state she was in half the time, and for all they knew, she was still in Switzerland. Maura can feel the tears slide down her cheeks, burning the thin red lines that the syringes made. The blood still edges out the side of her mouth, the taste leaving her stomach to do barrel rolls. All she wants to do now is sleep, and to try and get the events of the night out of her head for a few hours; the severity of her situation digging into her mind harshly.

"So what are we going to do with her?" Frankie slowly peels off his fake stubble as the car merges onto the highway, further away from the dead man in the bedroom and the bloody tooth on the bed. He tosses it into the glove compartment and begins to remove the blonde wig, shaking out the naturally black hair underneath it. Jane turns to him and shakes her head, smiling. His unnaturally blue eyes stick out from his darker features but the contacts have on must be placed in a special solution that Jane can clearly remember leaving in the bathroom at home.

Frankie gripped the steering wheel with one hand and pulled off the remaining fake skin with the other hand, his cheeks slightly itchy from the remnants of the latex adhesive. Jane drags her fingernails over her jaw line and chine, trying to clean off all the latex as possible.

"I don't know," Jane pulls off the fake chin, scratching at the rash that has developed on her own skin. The fake layer always causes a rash if it's left on too long, and these missions never take long unless there's a disturbance. She starts kicks off her heels; feeling satisfied knowing that there will be a change of clothes at the gas station. "But I'm sure I can think of something."


End file.
